


The Prince of Lucis

by Tukkee



Category: Final Fantasy XV
Genre: Ass Play, Lingerie, M/M, Pure Smut, Rimming, Strippers & Strip Clubs, because i dont have a good imagination, just nasty porn, tropey
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-10-31
Updated: 2018-10-31
Packaged: 2019-08-11 16:46:49
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,750
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16479224
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Tukkee/pseuds/Tukkee
Summary: Gladio has been handed his first night off in forever, and instead of kicking it back at his favorite dive, he decides to go to a glitzy strip club and see what all the fuss is all about.Explicit because you know damn well what's coming.





	The Prince of Lucis

**Author's Note:**

> I had this idea brewing for some time, and while it's absolutely a tried and true trope that isn't exactly creative, I wanted to flex my porn muscles again. Please comment and bookmark if you liked it!

He felt lost, an oddly new sensation considering he’d lived in the sprawling Insomnia metropolis all his life. He’d seen every corner, from the good to the bad, from the lively and the seedy. He could map out an escape route, an efficient shopping tour, or even a bar crawl to end all bar crawls. But this area felt new, as if it sprouted from nonexistence overnight. The neon lights lining up and down the street bounced off the wet pavement, a deposit left over from the afternoon’s storm that inadvertently granted him the night off. His duties as Crownsguard, the Prince’s personal shield, while unceasing and zealous, were abruptly halted in the afternoon when he received a less than passive-aggressive text from Ignis ordering him to take the night off. Something about the rain forcing the Prince in and how the lanky aide was caught in the middle of rearranging the Prince’s loft for the umpteenth time. Noctis, Ignis inexplicably explained, decided to help. Gladio offered his muscles, but Ignis ordered him to take the night off. Gladio protested, but Ignis never replied. The message was received.

It was his first day off in as long as he could remember, a weird feeling of uselessness and emptiness he’d not known since the younger Prince was still in high school. Gladio had spoken to his superiors about how, as the Prince grew into adulthood, the role of Shield would carry a different meaning. Less about protecting him, and more about letting him make mistakes for himself. To learn, to flourish, to come into his own as a prince. This all meant that Gladio’s time was coming to an end, or at least should have. Yet, the Prince kept him around. He seemed to always find excuses to have the burly protector with him at all times. Mostly, they were excuses to hang out and do suburban things, or in the rare occurrence, to train. But excuses nonetheless.

The sky was darkening and the street was ringing with activity. Cars were screeching and letting small groups of young and old all dressed in their weekend best out. Smiles and scrunched eyes were plastered on everyone he passed, clashing with his neutral look of curiosity. As much as it had been ages since he had time off, it certainly had been eons since his last stroll down into the nightlife district alone. He had no idea where to go, which watering hole to pick, and least of all; how he’d get home.

Lines started to gather up the road and the blaring pulses of music began to flood the packed sidewalks. Gladio stood a solid head above the majority of the crowd all gearing up for a fun night, which helped him easily spot a jarringly massive circle of excited shoulders a block away on the other side of the road. Compared to the orderly and shivering lines he was pacing past, the small mass of people he was staring at looked positively charged. His Crownsguard instincts kicked in, mind racing of the indeterminate possibilities as to why they’d all be clamoring at the door of just another bar.

His feet picked up and his hand rose to grab the nonexistent sword strapped to his back, an action that briefly reminded him that he was in his street clothes. Nevermind that, he thought, he was strong and he could use his fists if needed. He couldn’t even take a day off without feeling the need to step in a fight and be the hero. What a fucking joke, he lambasted himself. He dodged idling cars and people alike until he reached the cause of the commotion. Cheerful laughs and waving points all fingered towards a dimly lit poster framed by glass.

“Special guest opener,” Gladio read the writing to himself from his spot outside the sea of people, “the most famous man in all of Insomnia.”

The poster itself was crudely drawn, as if it were a last minute design scribbled down by the most qualified person working at the place. The pose of the shadowy silhouette was, however, provocative, typical of a red-light dancer. Mysterious, but all the more captivating, judging by the mixed crowd all poking their curious eyes and nose up to the barfront’s glass. The curvaceous lines and ‘come hither’ finger wag of the outline looked like it was pointing right at him, begging—no, ordering him, to come in and find out. The text was familiar, a font used in all official Lucis documentation. It gave the poster a regal feeling to it, something of importance. A once in a lifetime event, so to speak.

Despite his incredibly limited personal experience in nightlife, Gladio was still put off by the sheer level of excitement towards the titty bar in question. His favorite joints were dives, dark dens of five or maybe six on a good night, all somberly drinking away and listening to whatever sludge slithered out of the jukebox in the corner. He’d seen movies, heard stories, but still never been interested in the full-on strip club experience. Why bother with the whole ordeal when a free hand and vivid imagination were more than adequate, he would reason.

The door down the block opened and the crowd began lining up, hands deep in their pockets fishing out IDs and cash. The music coming from the inside was like any other place, a thumping four-by-four track with shrills of glittering electronica thrown in for good measure. Gladio checked his phone, finding the home screen blank with the background of Lucis’s insignia piercing right up at him. He was hoping he’d be needed back at the palace and given something to do with his free time. But with no new notifications and a creeping realization of of not being called on for the rest of the night, the large man decided to say hell with it and check out this special event.

He entered confidently, flashed his badge to the bored, probably underpaid halfling glowing underneath the blacklights strewn across the entire length of the dancehall. Ripples of lights danced around the obsidian walls and tiled floor, sparkling against the peeks of chrome from the quickly occupied seats. All heads were turned towards the stage where a small lineup of men and women, of wildly different body types and rhythmic proclivities, warmed up the gathering patrons in different states of inebriation. Gladio was unfortunately sober, too sober to even begin to mentally justify why he was in this strip club. He got his hairy fist stamped with a small decal of a full-breasted devil winking at him like it was their dirty little secret and stepped through. The stamp bearer gave Gladio a once over, eyes scanning his tight jeans and half-unbuttoned long sleeve which he had rolled up enough to catch a small glimpse of his inky feathers. Plain and custodial, the least flashy and normal clothes he could possibly wear in a place as flashy and abnormal like this. Luckily, he wasn’t famous, or rather if his name and rank caused alarm bells of attention to ring, his face and outfit certainly didn’t.

His heavily scarred and direly scruffy face scowled under the bright and jarring lights as he made his way to what he guessed was the bar and ordered. He turned to lean against the metal rim until his drink eventually arrived in hand by another tired looking, already-fed-up-with-the-night, twink. He grumbled his appreciation and flashed a smile, which unimpressively earned him an eye roll for the ages. Small tip for him, Gladio noted with a scribble on the damp receipt.

The warm up dancers started shuffling off slowly, until one remained on the far end of the Plexiglas, entertaining a clearly enamored section of women huddled around the cul de sac of a corner. The lights began to flash and the screeching of a microphone tinged the ears of everyone, including the not nearly drunk enough Gladio still sequestered by the bar.

“Alright, alright, alright,” the overly baritone voice boomed over the fading music, “is everyone having a goodnight?”

The crowd cheered and clapped, hollering and whistling. Gladio checked his phone again, surveying the surprisingly late time, and finding no new messages from the palace. He ordered a second drink. Something different, something stronger.

“Alright, well welcome everybody, have we got something special for you tonight,” the announcer crooned, shifting the dancing lights and aiming them directly towards a pane of frosted glass dead center on the stage. The crowd’s eyes drew to the glowing barrier and all mouths were closed, a synchronized apnea silencing everyone eager for the show to start.

“Of course, we’re not going to show off our brand new attraction just yet,” the announcer joked, earning some boos, earning some claps. “We’ve got a couple of starters for you, equally talented and oh so beautiful. An just a disclaimer, but it goes without saying: no touching the dancers, no matter how into you they seem. It’s their job, don’t get it twisted. And no pictures puh-lease! Everyone ready?”

The crowd once again erupted into applause. Gladio, however, didn’t add his voice. He honestly couldn’t care less while his mind wandered around the criticism he knew would come. Random thoughts entered him about bad it could look that a member of the Crownsguard, a beacon of strength and royalty, was about to get his rocks off in a titty bar. He could admit and even brag to his fellow shields and maybe the Prince himself, but if word or photos got out that this is where one of the Prince’s right hand men came to, it’d end him. It’d end the Prince. He gulped heavily with the arrival of his third drink, vowing to kill it quickly and move to leave before the crushing sense of guilt did him in.

“First up we have small but equally special treat for you, another newbie making their debut here tonight,” the speakers went, and the crowd inched forward. “He and his friend begged us to no end to let him perform tonight, and after, let’s say a rocky audition, we’ve decided to give him a shot!”

Gladio scanned the room and saw about half lean back into their chairs, visibly announcing their disinterest in having a man lead the night in. While there were still plenty of eyes zeroed in on the partition, knowing that their mystery guest would be postponed until later was a collective disappointment. Smart for the owners, ensuring there’s a steady stream of thirsty throats headed to the bar as they waited for the real good show. Gladio was eavesdropping on several disapproving remarks, scoffs of impatience, and snickers of lust. Healthy would be the word Gladio would use to describe the gender ratio of patrons. Nonetheless, with half the crowd checked out, the show started with the click of music.

Slow and steady the rhythm marched in, an angelic voice and cheesy after-effects announcing the arrival of ‘The Prince’. Gladio rolled his eyes and watched the lights under the stage’s flooring glow white. A hesitant slew of claps echoed around the room as the music got louder, and then a shadowy arm extended itself behind the glass door. Fingers rotated and flexed, and eventually gripped the edge to slow peel the sliding frame back. The music cut out and a foot stomped down with a girthy thump. A spotlight rose from the floor and trailed up the length of a boot, black and leather. The other foot whipped around and with a stronger smash, hit the floor. The door rocked and slammed against its tracks as ‘The Prince’ finally emerged.

Gladio nearly choked.

Up there was Noctis, there was no mistaking even under the dim, disorienting lights. He’d recognize that face anywhere, even though his current expression was entirely unrecognizable. It was lustful, drugged out and hungry. Seductive and vehement. The young man had his long hair pulled back in a bun, freeing his eyes and freckled cheeks in a way the made Gladio blush. His long black tank top hung effortlessly from his thin shoulders and draped down to a deliriously tiny pair of matching black shorts, glittering against the flashing strobes. The music roared back in full force and he began to move, and Gladio couldn’t help to stand entranced.

That couldn’t be him, it simply couldn’t be. The Prince was at home at the palace, moving furniture, and of all things, under the watchful and plain-steely eyes of Ignis. His ears perked next to him, a couple disguised by the dark room, swapping comments about the dancer’s identity, and how it was clearly an impression. He must have been just a man, dolled up to look like the famous Prince of Lucis. Passable, Gladio gathered from the two, but not entirely convincing.

But Gladio had trouble believing that, especially once the man on stage slid to the front edge. The lights surged on with the drop in the music, blasting insatiably and accurately with the circles his hips were tracing. His lips were pouty and his eyes hung low, and everything was lost on the Crownsguard: this couldn’t have been Noct. The Prince he’d sworn to protect in a strip club like this, showing off like that, it was entirely uncharacteristic of the young prince.

“Six,” Gladio grappled as he finished his third drink, “what the fuck?”

Still, his suspicions lingered and his Crownsguard instincts kicked in once again as he began scanning the area for dangers. For exits if necessary. He couldn’t see any, but he considered the possibility of not even needing any. This wasn’t Noctis, there was no possible way. He was overreacting, he beat into himself. He was acting under the impression that the second most important person in the entire country was right in front of him, in front of a hundred others, flashing his skin in time with music. He bit his lip, just as the dancer bit his and lifted his top.

“Fuck,” Gladio growled out breathlessly as the man on stage wrestled with the tank. His belly was smooth, intensely so. The band on the shorts straddled his hips precariously with his Adonis belt cutting down him like an axe to a tree. The tank swept off his back and down onto the floor, crumbling on top a scattered pile of singles. The dancer’s hands moved to his belly, rubbing silent circles on his milky skin and tracing over small, discrete scars peppering the surface. It was when the man turned around to present his backside that Gladio realized that all of his fears were in fact true.

Down the small of his back was an ‘X’, faded and pink, jagged reminders of a training session gone wrong years ago. This was Noctis. Wholeheartedly, Gladio knew it was his prince. No one seemed to know, or for that matter care, but the Prince of Lucis was up there, dancing to his heart’s content, earning a rise from the crowd.

Gladio couldn’t look away. Not out of duty or even pride, but he was strangely curious. Curious to see where this would all go, to see what Noct would be willing to show.

The younger man grinned and lapped his tongue at his upper lip, clearly enjoying the growing cheers and catcalls. His hands found their way to his belt loops and he began to play with them, hooking his thumbs into the sewed-in straps of flamboyant fabric. He pulled them out and down, alternating sides and giving the growingly rambunctious crowd blasts of sharp hip bones. Gladio squinted through the light and started to sway along with the music, matching the Prince’s movements as the younger man became more adventurous. He trailed up and down the catwalk and skirted along the edges of the quivering stage, dragging the tips of his boots against the row of bulbs and eyes shining right up at him.

Noct’s concentration draped lower and lower until his fingers found purchase against the soft, silver button hoisting his shorts together. With a toothy grin, right when the chorus of the song hit, he snapped it and tore the entire garment off in a single, clearly practiced movement. The crowd erupted and Gladio was floored. Noct spun around and showed off what was underneath: a black lace thong, nestled uncomfortably tight between his uniformly pale but full ass. He flipped back around and gave the hall a view from the front, a small, shaved bulge tucked obscenely inside the triangle of fabric. It was the most scandalous thing Gladio had ever seen, not just on Noct, but on anyone. It looked a size or two too small, but that must’ve been the point, Gladio deduced. Showing everyone the most without showing them everything. Clever, Gladio gulped and straightened out his tightening front. He hated that he was enjoying this.

Noctis smiled at the crowd and squatted down, bending his knees and flexing his thighs out to give the front row of hungry and dangerous patrons a no-holds-barred look at his possession. Noct then spun on his heels and dipped forward, rubbing his smooth chest against the floor and arching his back depravedly. The far ends of the crowd stood on their toes, trying to get a better look. Gladio found himself itching to do the same. All he could see were the bent forward backs and bobbing heads of the length of people in front of him, completely obscuring the Prince from his protective, and burgeoningly wishful attention. He wanted to step in and intervene, and literally would have were it any other situation.

But Noctis was in control, Gladio thought. He clearly had the crowd in his fingers. Gladio took a cautious step forward, whether to jump in and make sure Noct was okay or to get to the front of the line to just look at Noct in his radiant fervor. Could he blame the drinks for his drunken lust, Gladio questioned. Or was it something else on his mind.

Gladio readjusted again once he saw the top of Noctis’ head emerge from the sea, rising slowly to the beat and marching to the other side of the stage. The section of people he was abandoning all had goofy grins on their lips, lecherous gazes watching their gift leave. Gladio traced Noctis down to the other side when a stray beam of light hit something in his peripheral, bringing his attention over to a mess of blonde and an even bigger, almost sinfully prideful smile.

“You sneaky bastard,” Gladio chuckled as his attention refocused to Prompto, who stood several paces behind everyone, watching his best friend make a racy fool of himself on stage. Prompto’s hands waved and clapped at Noctis, seemingly grabbing his attention because the Prince would not stop looking at him, even as he got low to repeat the same maneuver as he displayed for the other side just moments ago. This time Gladio got a slightly better look with the new angle, but it was still mostly obstructed by starved hands and heads. It was until Noctis started crawling back up that Gladio got what his forbidden and traitorous eyes craved.

The Prince’s hands slowly wrapped around his calves, just above his loosened boots, and he stretched down. Gladio’s pupils dilated and his lips parted, an exhausted breath escaping his lungs as Noct exposed arguably the most heart-stopping thing Gladio had ever seen. His Prince, his job, his life, kindled a craving in him that never before existed. Or, maybe it was always there and Gladio never realized it. Or perhaps he suppressed it. Gladio couldn’t help but bring a hand to his rough denim and rub a calloused touch against the red-hot zipper. This was becoming too much for him. He shouldn’t be seeing this. None of these people should have been.

The music began to crescendo and Noct made his way to the front of the stage, right where he started. He looked tired, judging by the incredibly laborious breaths he was taking. He looked to have snagged a few bills and tuck them under the impurely thin line of underwear squeezing against his hips. Gladio wondered if he did that himself, or did he let some schmuck get their greasy fingers onto his skin. Noctis rose his hands in the air, stretching his cage and kissing his sweat glistened bicep as the song closed. The lights that were dancing all pivoted around to blindingly shine against the Prince, staring him down and giving the crowd one last glimpse, full and uncovered, of the real Prince of Lucis.

Both Gladio’s and Noctis’ chests heaved as the crowd roared to life, giving the newcomer a delightful round of well-earned applause. Gladio was beside himself, his limbs and mind felt weak. He forcefully propped himself up against the bar and watched Noctis take a bow, smiling just as Noctis would anyone at home. Gone was the seductress, and back was the Prince.

“Now wasn’t that something folks?!” the announcer boomed back in, cueing a backing track and flicking the stage lights off. “Let’s give it up one more time for The Prince!”

Gladio’s eyes blinked and suddenly he felt awake, no longer distracted by the entrancing show up front. His head whipped around looking for Noctis, but could only see the dark and frosty divider slide shut on stage. He stood fully and looked to Prompto, who was moving towards the side of the house. Gladio sneered and began to politely but sternly push people out of his way. He had to see the both of them, to shout at them for doing something so reckless.

And he had to see Noctis. To do—something. He didn’t know yet.

The stage was swept up by stagehands and half the patrons stood to head towards the bar, severely limiting Gladio’s ability to power his way through. He felt piercing eyes gloss over his impressive build and even a few stray hands push and drag against his clothes, some more exploratory than others. He was afraid, not by the hidden hands squeezing whatever they could find on the man, but if the hands found his excitement up front, a direct response to the wildly adult display he’d just seen from Noctis. Men and women alike looked up at Gladio’s ruggedness, batting their eyes and licking their lips up at the incredibly uninterested Crownsguard. He only wanted one thing right now, and he was behind the stage.

Gladio made his way to the back and his arm parted the thick curtains he was certain Prompto exited through, finding a well lit and horribly disorganized area. Half-buckled boxes and an endless stream of wires weaved along the strikingly plain concrete floor. Dancers and other employees in all states of dress walked and straggled around in the back, talking amongst themselves, getting ready for the next show, staring at the sudden appearance of Gladio. He smiled meekly and tiptoed through, shrugging off judging looks and hushed whispers of perversion. He looked around and squinted through the vanity lights, a bright and warm mix of white and yellow doing its best to hide the blonde hair he was looking for. He stepped further in and eventually heard Prompto’s distinct tenor, golden and loud.

“Holy shit! Holy shit! Holy shit!” Gladio heard Prompto repeat, mixing with a soft laugh from Noctis. Gladio stepped towards the small divided corner where the two were but froze in place, opting to slide next to the opening and just listen in. He could very well surge through and confront the two, but what good would that do, Gladio thought. Noctis and Prompto were doing this secretly, and they probably took every precautionary measure to ensure that absolutely no one who knew Noctis would see him like that. If he stepped in and revealed he was watching Noct the whole time, it’d not only end his career, but end their friendship. Gladio silently cursed at himself, this was a mistake. Taking the moment to think ruined him, and he wasn’t about to ruin what he had with those two.

“Dude, you were fucking incredible!” Prompto gleefully sung. “Like dude, you have no idea how much you killed that! How are you feeling?!”

Gladio could hear Noctis chuckle, then take several deep breaths. He sounded like he was still riding the adrenaline, the high of all the attention. “I can’t stop shaking, man. That was so nerve-wracking!”

“You did amazing, though! Like, if you were nervous you certainly didn’t look it!”

“That was so intense. I can’t even believe I did that!”

“Neither can I!”

“You don’t think anyone recognized me, do you?”

“Wasn’t the whole point of this to have people recognize you?”

“Yeah, but like,” Noctis paused, voice still electric and shaky. “In hindsight, I’m just… shocked, you know? What if someone knew it was me?”

“Dude, just relax,” Prompto consoled. “No one is going to believe that was you. Probably just a very good look-a-like or something.”

“You think?”

“Yeah, man. That’s the whole point of these thing, it’s an illusion! Literally everyone thinks you’re just some guy with long black hair and a perfect little butt, all dressed up and given the name ‘The Prince’. Like, no offense, but you’re not that hard to replicate.”

“Thanks, Prompts,” Gladio heard Noctis snicker, bringing up a smirk to his own face. “Fuck, but what a rush. And what a crowd too! I wasn’t expecting that kind of reaction.”

“What are you talking about? What reaction were you expecting, dude?”

“I dunno, something more subdued,” Noctis coughed. “This was the first time I’ve ever done this, you know, and I don’t think I did that great.”

“First time in public, man. I know how many times you’ve done this in your room, and only the Six knows how many times you’ve done this in your dirty, little head.”

“Shut up,” Noctis laughed, pressing Prompto against the same wall Gladio was up against. He felt the push, and struggled to not make a noise. He had to get out of there.

“Plus look at all the cash you got!”

“Yeah, I’ll cherish it forever with the rest of my wealth.”

“Donate it to charity, dude. It’s only right.”

“Oh that’ll look great: Prince of Lucis gifts money once wedged between his ass cheeks!”

“Yeah, to me and the rest of your butlers and servants!”

“Shut up!” Noctis laughed.

“Holy shit, speaking of which, you’ll never guess who I saw out in the crowd!” Prompto blurted out. Gladio held his breath. There was no possible way Prompto saw him, assuming he was talking about the muscular man. Granted he definitely stood out amidst the rest, and frankly he could’ve hopped right on that stage and danced and no one would blink an eye, but Prompto certainly couldn’t have been talking about— “Gladio!”

Shit.

“No shit,” Noctis reversed tones, now funereal.

“Well, I don’t know for certain,” Prompto pumped the brakes, earning a tepid sigh from the man in question. “It was dark and I was looking at you for most of it but I could’ve sworn I saw Glads in the very back by the bar.”

“Dude don’t even joke about that!” Noctis huffed through fumbled sounds of the countertop banging against the partition where Gladio hid. “If he saw, let alone knew that I did that, he’d absolutely kill me.”

“No he would not, relax,” Prompto taunted.

“Yeah, he would!” Noctis moaned. “I regularly ditch training, and if he found out it was because I wanted to try my hand at stripping, he’d blow a gasket.”

“You’re more worried about him finding out than, say, your dad?”

“My dad doesn’t go to places like these, he’d never know.”

“But Gladio does?”

“I dunno,” Noctis bit his tongue. “Maybe? Fucking apparently, if you saw him!”

“Well shit,” Prompto whispered after a moment of thought. Gladio heard an impatient tap of the blonde’s shoe, “If you were worried about him _possibly_ finding out, then why’d you agree to do it?”

“I never even thought of it! I didn’t think that could’ve been a possibility!” Noctis sounded flustered, angry almost. As if his moment of elation and jubilation came crashing down with the realization that a single person, Gladio, could have conceivably been watching him. Unbeknownst to the Prince but he wasn’t just watching Noct, he was living for it. He had enjoyed the show so much his mind couldn’t break from the thought. It couldn’t peel away from the memory, the sight of Noctis on hands and knees with a single strip of black covering his circle of pink, glowing above the floored lights. Gladio’s breath hitched when the partition rattled again with a band from Noctis’ fists, “Shit.”

“Dude, calm down,” Prompto spoke slowly. “Tonight’s a good night, yeah?”

“Yeah,” Noctis replied weakly. Gladio had seen these mood swings before, going from a gleeful disposition down into a turbulent low. It wasn’t that it was unbecoming of the future king, but Gladio was frequently reminded of just how young and still naive Noctis could be. He just wanted to go do something out of the ordinary, something that no other prince would even begin to consider. It was his night and Gladio, in an oddly indirect way, kind of spoiled it. The Crownsguard’s own curiosity in a mysterious headliner who just so coincidentally happened to be opened by his prince felt like a colossal, cosmic middle finger. Cruel.

“Dude, tell you what,” Prompto offered. “The next performer is about to start. I’ll duck out real quick and see if I can find him. If he’s there, I’ll come back and we can stay until he’s gone. If he’s gone, then we can bounce back home.”

“Sure,” Noctis breathed out with an assurance in his tone. “I’ll just kick it back here for now.”

Prompto grunted a response and peeled off, stomping right past the barrier Gladio was nervously behind. The larger man watched the meek blonde scurry away and he thanked what celestial being above not deciding to literally have Prompto shoot Noctis a fleeting glance and discover the spy amongst them. Gladio was bewildered at how the daft youth didn’t see him, but it wasn’t important now, the music from the stage started its rhythm and it seemed like the only two people left in the back were Noctis and Gladio.

Gladio stood motionless for a moment, gathering his thoughts and formulating a plan, deciding exactly what to say and how to say it. Should he be stern and upset that Noctis clearly gave no mind to his personal safety? Or should he go easy on him and tell him how worried he was? Or should Gladio, with no other reason but his selfish desires, come on to the young prince and congratulate him for such a wonderful night of sexually charged entertainment. Gladio held his breath and smirked, turning around the barrier to find Noctis staring at his tired eyes in the mirror.

He was still in the thong, but had replaced the long tank on his back. The material clung to his skin lewdy, like a second layer connected by sweat and carnality. He was bent over at the waist just enough for the larger man to grab a final glance of the Prince’s open and candidly gorgeous ass. Gladio bit his lip and completely forgot his last train of thought, focused solely on the beautiful mound in front of him. From the stage he could barely get a glimpse, but up close and underneath the indiscrete lights, it was more magnificent than he could have ever imagined.

“You know—”

Noctis screeched and banged his head on the mirror, thankfully leaving it unbroken, and he spun around so lightning quick it even made Gladio lightheaded.

“—underneath all them baggy clothes you love, I wouldn’t have guessed you’d have as cute an ass as you do,” Gladio smirked, doing his best to impress the man who shouldn’t need impressing.

“What in the FUCK are you doing here?” Noctis all but screamed as his fists balled the hem of his tank, pulling down the fabric to cover his bulge.

“Assuming that I’d kill you for doing something like this really hurts, Noct,” Gladio caught himself saying, bashing himself internally for going down this route instead of other, more thoughtful roads.

“Were you spying on me?! Did that four-eyed asshat tell you to follow me?!”

“Four-eyed ass—Iggy?”

“Yeah! Six, what’re you doing here?” Noctis hissed, legs trembling and knees ducking in and out trying to cover himself more and more. Gladio frowned and stepped back, opting to swivel over to give the Prince a shred of privacy while he figured out his clothing situation. But Noctis remained still, hands triangling down his milky thighs. The black from the top clashed so heavily against his skin, Gladio loved it. Compared to his own sun-torched exterior, Noctis looked positively angelic. Luminous and virginal. “Well?”

Gladio blinked, and saw the frustration in the shorter man’s eyes. He wanted an answer, and wanted it now. “I, uh… Iggy had told me—”

“I knew it! Ugh, that fuckin—”

“No, no, Noct. Just wait,” Gladio turned back and cornered the Prince. “Iggy had said you were rearranging furniture with him, and he was pretty damn adamant I take the night off. Whatever deal or pact you two, or three, have with each other I literally know nothing about it.”

Noctis stared at Gladio with cautious looking eyes, visibly digesting the validity of the taller man’s words. Gladio continued, “I was bored and wanted to try something new. I thought maybe a titty joint would be exciting, and lo and behold I’m watching you up there putting on a damn fine show. Like—”

Noctis smirked.

“Fuck, Noct,” Gladio’s attention returned to the lower half of the Prince’s body, taking it all in. He saw the pale hands slowly unclench the bottom of his tank, ghastly wrinkles remaining in place but the rim of the shirt lifting up enough to expose his small and stout bulge. The thong left little to the imagination, and underneath the bright lights Gladio could see the defined ridges and outline of the younger man’s front, oppositely lost on the dark and hazy stage. Gladio was at another loss for words, deviantly running laps around Noct’s ensemble and stretching out his own growing crotch, uncomfortably trapped in the rough confines of his jeans.

“I’m glad you’re enjoying yourself, then,” Noctis whispered, drawing the attention of the Crownsguard back to the Prince’s face.

“So I have to ask the obvious question,” Gladio started.

“Why stripping? I dunno,” Noctis interrupted, catching Gladio off guard. “I told Prompto about it once and he never let it go. You know how he is.”

“Unfortunately,” Gladio frowned.

“I just wanted to do something wild, you know? Something different. I’m so tired of all this regality shit and just figured I could do something—”

“You do realize that I am obligated by my oath to tell you how fucking stupid this whole stunt was, right?”

“Here we go,” Noctis rolled his eyes, turning around to look back in the mirror.

Gladio immediately shot his eyes back down to Noctis’ ass, plump and smooth, begging for a number of things Gladio could easily and readily provide. “I’m just going to get it out of the way so that if I’m ever asked about it, I can say that I told you so.”

“Let’s hear it big guy,” Noctis bit his lip.

“Your whole plan of assuming the crowd wouldn’t believe that was the real you was completely misguided.”

“I know.”

“Fucking anything could’ve happened to you Noctis.”

“I know.”

“Kidnapped? Murdered? Photographed and blackmailed? Did you think about any of that?”

“I know!” Noctis slammed his fists down on the vanity counter, shaking the arch of screwed in incandescents. Gladio stood in shocked but understanding silence. It wasn’t like he meant to be the voice of abject criticism for the young prince, but someone had to be the one to chastise him. Gladio figured it’d be better for that someone to be him, one of his closest friends and most trustworthy ally.

“But,” Gladio continued, softer and with a hand now squeezing Noct’s slouched shoulder. “You did look good out there.”

“Thanks, Glads,” Noctis said slowly. “I’m glad you liked it. Liked me.”

“I’m not kidding, kid,” Gladio said with a courageous slap to Noctis’ ass. “This is pretty fucking golden.”

Noctis chuckled and pressed his back further towards the man behind him, allowing him to fondle one of his naked cheeks. Gladio fumbled with the flesh, rolling the impossibly soft and dewy skin under his rough and battered hands. It felt better than anyone he’d ever touched before, partly because he could focus on solely that rather than trying to juggle three or four tasks simultaneously. Gladio stepped forward, boldly closing in enough to rub the cold metal of his zipper against the warm and very barely trembling Prince. He placed his hands firmly on the Prince’s surprisingly broad hips, forcing him back to make suggestive contact.

“May I?” Gladio groaned, low and mostly to himself as his hips began to move, trepidatiously at first, to gauge Noct’s reaction. He looked into the mirror and saw his Prince’s lids lowered, lips parted microscopically, and the smallest of nods creek from his neck. Steam billowed against the mirror with every out and faded with every inhalation. He couldn’t tell if the Prince felt his now straining crotch digging into his backside, but Gladio could certainly feel the pain of having it ruthlessly and discriminately trapped behind his zipper. Having the Prince in this position, without putting in much effort to get him there upon reflection, worked tirelessly to break down Gladio’s will to just slip himself into the younger man and work him over like a cheap set of dumbbells. He lifted up the Prince’s shirt and found that familiar scar, the one that identified him to Gladio. It was his scar, in a weird way.

“Promise not to tell?” Noctis choked.

“I wouldn’t dream of it,” Gladio whispered back while one of his hands tugged on the thong, hoisting the Prince up in an uncomfortable, but dominating kind of way.

“Can I keep doing it?” Noctis moaned quietly.

“You want to do this again?” Gladio hushed back, peeling the fabric to the side and watching the ring of pink stretch along with it. Gladio licked his lips and knelt to the floor.

“Not anytime soon, of course. But, I don’t know…” Noctis trailed off, his gaze drifting to the floor and finding Gladio’s scarred, hungry eyes between his legs. “I liked it.”

“I know,” Gladio reassured him with a playful and viciously loud slap. “Just, let me come next time.”

“As my bodyguard?”

“And as a fan?” Gladio offered right back as he pressed a thumb onto Noct’s hole, still shrouded by tight cotton. “Or whatever you call drunks throwing cash in the air.”

“I think just drunks,” Noctis giggled. “VIPs if they’re rich.”

“I’m not rich, babe,” Gladio smirked, his thumb rubbing deep circles against the widened and smooth span of pink.

“You’re not,” Noctis gasped and spread his legs wider, his own short bulge growing in the front. “But you’re still pretty important.”

“I am, aren’t I? I get to see the Prince of Lucis every day, and as of right now, in a more stunning way than I have ever before,” Gladio smirked and brought his face in, his stubble catching the grooves of Noctis’ ass. His tongue tasted the cotton first, finding it wet with sweat and sweet like sugar. He started off slow, long laps from his papilla soaking the material separating his taste buds and Noct’s pink heat. Gladio’s hands crept up under Noct’s glutes and lifted them up, kneading the muscles gently while his tongue grew more vigorous. He licked the sides, trailing the edges where skin met fabric, savoring the salty mix of desire and exhaustion.

“Fuck, Gladio,” Noctis moaned and bent further forward so that his exposed chest could come flush with the cold countertop, giving the large man below him a better view of his smooth heat. Gladio growled voraciously, sharp and hungry teeth baring through his grinning lips. He pressed in further, using his chin to scratch the bottom of Noct’s groove with the soft tendrils of his beard as he began to work harder and faster. His nose poked Noct’s entrance, pressing gently while his tongue ran circles around the outside, spiraling inwards then back out repetitively. Noct’s breathing hastened but his mouth was still shut, eyes still closed, lost in the sensation of having his most trusted bodyguard and longtime friend eat him out. He felt the cool air-conditioned breeze kiss the places that were slick with saliva, and he let out a confident moan.

Gladio smirked and peeled his face back, squeezing the mounds of ass roughly and bring a hand down on a cheek, the echo from which satisfying him greatly. He slipped two fingers under the fabric dividing Noct’s ass and pulled up, sharply until the material threatened to break apart. Noct yelped and stood on his toes while Gladio played him like a marionette, pulling and pushing the smaller boy every which way before easing him back down to the floor. With a sultry chuckle and another slap, Gladio strung the backside of the thong over to the side of Noctis’ cheeks, exposing his quivering hole to the Crownsguard.

“Six,” Gladio hissed out, eyes contorting at the beautiful ring of meat framed so perfectly in between Noct’s pale ass. A rough thumb slipped up and pressed into it and rubbed a small oval directly on the pucker, eliciting a long and sustained groan from the first-time stripper. “You show this to anyone?”

“What?” Noctis breathed out, turning his head back to speak more clearly.

“I said,” Gladio spanked him again and used his thumb to pull down on his hole, “have you shown your beautiful ass to anyone before me?”

“No, Glads,” Noct winced and moaned.

“Not even Prompto?” Gladio smirked.

“Fuck no!” Noctis briefly snapped out of his sexual daze to say.

“Heh,” Gladio mumbled before winding up and burying his face deep into Noctis’ ass. His lips kissed the Prince’s hole and began to suck on the hairless, impeccably clean skin with urgency. Nothing had ever tasted so good to Gladio, nothing compared to the whores and sleazes he’d picked up throughout the years. Tasted better than any of his past relationships, probably even tasted better than his own. He couldn’t believe that in a matter of a few short hours he went from protecting the young prince in the palace to pressing his hungry tongue deep into noble ass backstage at a strip club.

But here he was, and here Noctis was, arching his back and grinding down on Gladio’s ferocious tongue as it worked into him. The Prince was now panting, hands slamming against the mirror and the worksurface attempting to grip onto something to steady his weakening legs. Gladio flexed his strong hands and pulled Noct’s ass apart, stretching the skin to blanch it stark white. Noct’s hole was spasming, quaking under the masterful motions of Gladio’s tongue and lips. Gladio smacked Noctis, birthing a moan. He smacked him again and heard another, a pitch higher. Gladio then slipped a hand through the split between Noctis’ legs and fondled his crotch, rock hard with a wet tip.

Gladio growled into Noct’s ass as he ensnared the Prince’s short cock, rubbing his length through the cotton fabric confining it. Noctis bucked under the touch, inelegantly freeing himself from his thong with a bounce and a drippy slap. Gladio’s skilled fingers glided along the shaft and pinched at the tip, collecting the Prince’s precum and slathering it all down his throbbing erection.

“Fuck, Gladio!” Noctis gasped as the man’s tongue pushed inside of him, as far as the Crownsguard’s jaw would allow him. The wet breadth of the muscle wiggled around Noct’s opening and stretched him, a small and easy expansion compared to the many other things Gladio was contemplating using the next time he got the chance. His tongue pushed and pulled, deeper and deeper, pausing every now and then to gently and teasingly lap at the fragile ring. Gladio’s free hand went to work on his own zipper, missing the small clasp of metal repeatedly until he finally pulled it down enough to pull out his own erection.

The reprieve of having himself out in the open was a godsend, and while the urge to carry himself to orgasm was strong, he elected to return to his prince who, in a selfish thought, could finish him off later. Gladio strengthened the strokes and soon had Noctis to the point of convulsion in his hands and on his face.

“You gettin’ close, babe?” Gladio purred from his spot in Noct’s ass, the Prince responding with an eager nod and a loud groan. Gladio smiled and doubled his efforts, stroking and eating away until the lewd Prince could not take it anymore.

“Fuck, Gladio, I’m—” Noctis buzzed, throwing his head back in pleasure and pressing his ass as far back as he could. Gladio’s eyes rolled into the back of his head as he sucked on Noct’s swollen hole, puffy and dripping with the Crownsguard’s spit. “I’m gonna—”

Gladio shook his head and with the strength he accrued from being the strongest in a line of Amiticias, he spun Noctis around and stood him upright. The quick lurch around took the Prince by surprise and when he opened his eyes he found himself staring down to the floor, finding Gladio stroking his cock right in front of his open mouth. Before Noctis could even react with an objection, the throbbing in his crotch rose and with a loud yelp and hearty sob, shot his cum all over Gladio’s waiting tongue. His chest heaved as he spilled his sizeable load onto Gladio, who waited patiently for the Prince’s cock to finish before closing his mouth and swallowing.

Gladio couldn’t remember a better tasting load, and he’d had his fair share. It was salty, nothing sweet about it like he was taught to believe by the porn industry. But it was delicious. Absolutely, incredibly, delicious. He licked his lips and opened his eyes, his owns chuffs matching the rhythm of the Prince’s, whose cock he still had gripped in his hands. Gladio’s fingers slid off the Prince’s length and drifted down the other’s legs, softly brushing on the tiny hairs of his pale and smooth skin.

“You’re so fucking beautiful,” is all Gladio could say before rising, tongue now working over his soaked fingers.

“And you’re so fucking talented,” Noctis murmured back, eyes closed in a clear, blissful afterglow. His body weight shifted lower and soon he became slack, too weak to hold himself up until Gladio’s hands caught under his armpits. Noctis fell into the embrace and smiled at the scent of the other’s gruffness, peeking through his eyes slightly to respond to the thing rigidly poking his abdomen. “Are you kidding me?”

“What?” Gladio chirped back, low and smoky.

“You’re huge,” Noctis gulped as his comparatively frail fingers slithered around Gladio’s still engorged cock. Sure he was bigger, bigger than most, but it wasn’t like he was a freak of nature. Just well-endowed, something that Gladio understood wouldn’t get him bonus points with guys and girls looking for something else.

“I’m average,” Gladio groaned when the Prince squeezed his purple and leaking head. “A bit above, if I’m feeling generous.”

“Do you, um,” Noctis whispered out, his lustful eyes not breaking contact with Gladio’s cock. “Do you want me to get you off?”

“Holy shit, what did I just miss?!” a voice boomed from behind Gladio just as he was about to lean in for a cum-stained kiss. Gladio groaned out and then chuckled loudly, pressing his head down against Noctis’ shoulders repeatedly in clear disappointment.

“Shit!” Noctis screeched for the second time, the effeminate wail having the opposite effect for Gladio’s already peaked libido. Gladio laughed softly and rose slowly, eyes narrowed on the Prince’s wide and glossy blues. Noctis scrambled to pull up his underwear and lower his tank top, all while peering over the towering man over to Prompto, who rested lazily against the partition of the corner booth. “Fucking dammit, Prompto!”

“I hope I wasn’t interrupting anything,” Prompto smirked.

“You did,” Gladio spoke, quiet enough to get drowned by Noctis shouting: “You weren’t!”

“See, I knew he was in the crowd!” Prompto winked at the Crownsguard.

“You always know when to show up unannounced, Prompts,” Gladio smiled.

“Like you’re one to talk, big guy,” Prompto slid next to Noctis, embarrassed and covering his front. “How’d you hear about our little adventure?”

“I didn’t know anything about it,” Gladio laughed, staring down Noct’s bright red cheeks. “Just coincidence I suppose.”

“Coincidence, huh?” Prompto grinned mischievously and stabbed an elbow into the Prince’s ribs. “How peculiar, indeed.”

“Shut up, Prompto,” Noctis stuttered out.

“Damn man, that’s quite the club you’re packing there. Six,” Prompto pointedly asked, fingers licking Gladio’s bobbing cock. Gladio chuckled at the gesture, finding Prompto’s genuine lack of personal space somewhat adorable. Prompto turned to leer at Noctis, “You give him that?”

“Shut up!” Noctis spoke louder, peeling away from the blonde.

“You have no idea,” Gladio smiled.

“I’m sure I had some idea once I found you two going to fucking pound town right in front of me,” Prompto said, eyes dropping low to look at Noct’s own semi-arousal. “Enjoy yourselves?”

“It’s,” Noctis hesitated, breath still shaking. He looked at the two and found their inquisitive eyes staring at him, one beaming with friendly joy and the other consequentially stern and attractive. His breath hitched and his jaw clamped shut, Gladio chuckled and worked his cock back into his jeans with a grunt.

“Complicated,” Prompto finished. “I gotcha.”

“Right,” Gladio said through pursed lips. He studied the Prince and found his gaze to be looking anywhere but him. He wasn’t even looking up and Prompto, who in turn was smiling as giddily as ever. “Well I’ll tell you the same thing I said to Noct. This was stupid.”

“Oh, the dumbest!” Prompto deadpanned.

“Something could’ve happened,” Gladio continued.

“Looks like it something already was happening,” Prompto spoke again.

“Dude would you just shut up!” Noctis bellowed.

“Dude, I’m just joking,” Prompto frowned. “Glads, can you lighten him up some?”

“Maybe later,” Gladio smirked.

“What’s that supposed to mean, oh Crownsguard?” Prompto winked and uppercut a hand to Gladio’s rigid jeans. Prompto pressed dainty fingers against the stronger man’s mold and puffed in amazement.

Gladio rolled his eyes and stepped back towards the exit, stretching his arms up and cracking his neck, “I’ll see you two at the palace.”

“What? That’s it?” Prompto asked, bewildered at the ease of their condemnation. He quickly looked to Noctis and found his dazed, almost catatonic from the night’s events. “No further chastising? You’re not gonna ground us or…?”

“Just make sure you get back safe, okay?” Gladio nodded.

“What’d you two talk about?” Prompto turned to Noctis, who had perked up with a thankful grin. “What’d you two do?”

Gladio shrugged and very cheekily pivoted around and headed towards the exit. He could hear the clamber of Prompto’s voice now shift over to Noctis, begging for more information with a blend of worry and excitement. Once Gladio passed the threshold and into the hall connecting the main floor, he paused long enough to hear a relieved howl from Noctis blast through the corridor. With a large smile, Gladio listened to the garbled jabber coming from the prince, followed by a clamorous yelp from Prompto at the story he was hearing. He couldn’t quite make it out, but Gladio was certain that Prompto asked Noct if he planned to continue with it. He didn’t he a response, but judging by Prompto’s loud cackle, Gladio made a note to check in on the prince later in the evening.

Not just to ensure he was home and safe, but maybe reap the benefit of personally knowing the Prince of Lucis.


End file.
